51
Rose
October 1980
Since Joel’s visit the distrust had begun to creep in. Slowly at first, like rust on a car, but then spreading insidiously, eroding and tarnishing our relationship. I needed to trust someone completely after Audrey and particularly after Victor. I’d wake in the morning, Daphne’s face next to mine on the pillow, and I’d experience a dropping sensation in my gut. Disappointment. Maybe I expected too much from people, from her. It was hard to know. But lies. How could you ever truly know someone, love someone, if they lied to you?
All I could think about as I sat and watched her sleep was what else she had lied about.
She’d lied about Neil Lewisham. She’d made me believe he was an angry, violent ex-boyfriend. But had I been so different? I’d let her think I was a widow when we first met. And, looking back, she’d never actually said Neil was an ex. I’d assumed. And now I had killed Neil. Had she manipulated me into doing that? Had I done the dirty work for her? She’d killed before – she’d admitted that herself. Although she said that was an accident, that she’d pushed little Susan Wallace in a temper after an argument and she’d fallen and cracked her head open on the discarded bricks of the bombsite they were playing in. I’d never looked into it, never had any reason not to believe her. But after she’d lied about Joel I decided to drive out to the library in Chippenham while you were at playschool. There, I was able to access all the old newspapers on microfiche – I read through all the reports of the trial, how she’d deliberately and, according to the barrister summing up, brutally struck Susan Wallace over the head with a brick, not once, but twice in an unprovoked attack.
I sat there, with the evidence in front of me, frozen to the spot.
She’d lied about that too.
I wanted to run away with you right there and then. Leave the cottage, leave Beggars Nook and run, run, run. But I couldn’t. The cottage was mine. It was the only asset I had. I didn’t even have a job. I couldn’t just leave.
No, Daphne would have to be the one to go.
I paced the house, planning what I was going to say while I waited for her to come back from the farm. Then I noticed you playing with your Sindy dolls on the fluffy rug in the living room. You looked so happy, so innocent. I couldn’t row with Daphne in front of you.
When Daphne arrived home, just half an hour later, you rushed into her arms. She dropped a bag at her feet before enveloping you. ‘Daffy!’ you cried. And then you grabbed her hand and pulled her into the living room before she’d even had the chance to take off her coat. She giggled, allowing herself to be dragged along, and my stomach turned over.
She smiled uncertainly at me over your head. I knew she was worried that I was slipping away from her since I’d found out about Joel, trying to reassure me that he’d got his wires crossed, still maintaining that she felt uncomfortable around him and that he had been trying it on with her.
But I no longer believed her. Joel had sounded too genuine.
I walked into the kitchen, knowing she’d follow. Which she did, slipping off her coat and dumping the carrier bag on the worktop. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold. ‘Hey, you,’ she said, coming over to kiss me. But I moved away before she could. Her shoulders slumped with the rejection. ‘Are you still mad at me?’
‘I don’t know,’ I lied.
‘I don’t understand …’ She hung her head, her fringe falling into her eyes. She looked so frail standing there that my instinct was to go over to her and wrap her in my arms. But I couldn’t. Instead I turned my back on her and put the kettle on the hob.
‘What’s in the bag?’ I asked instead.
‘Oh.’ She opened it. ‘Sean gave me this joint of beef.’
‘He’s giving you a lot of things lately. Are you sure he’s allowed?’